Because you weren't him
by btvs01fan
Summary: Buffy finds the answer to a question that has been haunting her since Spike died on the hellmouth.


**_Disclaimer: _**I own nothing. It all belongs to the god like people who started this crazy journey called Buffy the Vampire Slayer; namely their ruler Joss Whedon.

**_AN: _**Thanks to Gillypod my wonderful Beta. With out your encouragement and support my dream would still be shattered. hugs

Song words are from "Do what you have to do" by Sarah MacLauchlan, from her CD "Surfacing".

Words are written bold and italics.

**Because you weren't him.**

_**What ravages of spirit conjured this temptress rage,**_

_**Created you a monster broken by the rule of love**_

**_And fate has led you through it; you do what you have to do_**

**_And fate has led you through it; you do what you have to do_**

If wishes were…

Buffy sat curled up on her favorite chair, Spike's old blanket wrapped around her for warmth and comfort. It still carried his scent of old leather, Marlboro, and whisky. When she closed her eyes she could feel Spikes' cold hands on her warm body, touching her, loving her. If she had one wish, it would be for one more moment with him. Just to see him, to touch him. To let him know the words she uttered for his ears alone were true. She _did_ love him.

_**I had the sense to recognize that I don't know how to let you go**_

_**Every moment marked with apparitions of your soul**_

_**However swiftly moving trying to escape this desire**_

_**The yearning to be near you, I do what I have to do**_

_**The yearning to be near you, l do what I have to do**_

Denial is a funny thing.

Buffy never really let herself think about him. Not really. It was only because he had wedged himself into her life, an undying reminder of all things Sunnydale. That when he died she felt like a part of her burned up with him.

She only ever thought about Spike occasionally. He was just in her dreams, under her skin. He was also in every moment, in every minute of every bloody day.

She never looked for him on the crowded streets. Not when every thing reminded her of him. Not when she saw his face in the eyes of strangers.

Buffy never heard his voice echo in the silence of her home. The only sound she heard was the one of her heart, pounding beneath her breast.

She didn't miss him at all. No. It wasn't like she felt like she was missing something; it wasn't as if she had lost a limb, no more than that, a torso.

How was she supposed to live with out her torso?

_A**nd I had the sense to recognize, that I don't know how to let you go**_

_**I don't know how to let you go**_

Not for forever, not even for tomorrow.

The man asleep in her bed stirred and opened his eyes. She tore her eyes from the window and the distant memory of another. She looked over to where he lay like a Greek god, tangled in her sheets. Her jade eyes fell to his sea blue ones. He was beautiful; many women would be envious of her.

Hell if she were remotely sane she would shower him with kisses, declare her undying love to him with poetry, sonnets and sweet songs.

Not Buffy though, she wondered what he had seen in her. Why was he still with her? She didn't love him, never would. She never made him any promises of forever, not even any of tomorrow. She knew why she was with him. She saw someone else reflected in his soft blue eyes. Buffy saw the man whom she had given her heart to; and it belonged to Spike for an eternity.

Where do you go when you're alone with me?

He watched her. He wondered and not for the first time; where was the place she went to when he held her? Who was the _man_ she saw in his eyes when he made love to her.

She shared her body with him in the most intimate ways. Giving her body so freely to him, taking him to heights he never thought possible. Yet, there was this part of herself that Buffy never shared with him. A place in her heart that she hid not only from him, she kept it from the world too. A private place she escaped to. Perhaps she filled it with memories of a loved one lost.

A silent tear falling from her chin broke his train of thought.

Eyes are the windows to the soul.

He held her gaze, searching for the tiny flicker of emotion she sometimes let pass through her eyes.

She begged her eyes to look anywhere but at the man who was waiting for her, they denied her that privilege.

She sighed, her eyelids falling closed to shield the tears that were always threatening to fall. She forced her eyes open, only to see someone else staring back at her.

When her eyes met his, he saw it there for only a split second, recognition. A wave of love passed over her features, but as quickly as it appeared it was gone, replaced by sorrow. It was as though she saw someone else staring back at her, and once reality hit, she was awash in grief.

She could not look at her lover any longer, so she dropped her eyes to her scarred hand, remembering when she held _his_ hand for the last time.

"_The place was burning, falling down around them; flames engulfed their entwined fingers as she held his hand. She looked deep into his sea blue eyes and for the first time she saw him, the man, the poet and the demon. She saw his heart and his soul; it was there burning bright and pure. She felt what he felt. He loved with every fiber of his being. It shocked her to the core to know that he loved as intensely as she did. With that came the realization that he loved her this way. In that moment she knew what he has always known; she loves him._

'_I love you' she says to him, finally finding the courage to put voice to the emotions that have torn her apart for so long."_

Ironic; she thought, how the only scars she had left from her stint on the hellmouth were the ones left from holding the burning hand of her vampire. The ironic twist being it was _his_ cool touch that always soothed the raging fire buried within her. She traced each scar, relearning every detail. Her mind replayed every moment she shared with _him, _linking every bit of her scarred skin to those moments. Every inch of her scars held a memory, whether it was a fight, a kiss or a smile.

_**Glowing ember burning hot and burning slow**_

_**Deeper than I'm shaken by the violence of existing for only you**_

_**I know I can't burn with you I do what I have to do **_

_**I know I can't burn with you I do what I have to do **_

Too many answers not enough questions.

He could never bring himself to ask her about her scars. The way she protected that hand made him feel that even thinking about asking her was an unforgivable invasion; yet he craved her truth. But she never gave him the answers he needed to hear. He knew she would never quell his inner voice that was begging to know her secrets.

He knew once her truth was told she would not _take_ it back. They weren't ready for that. He doubted that they ever would be.

Each night they spent entwined in a lovers' embrace, she would call for another. Her cries full of pain. His heart ached for her, knowing that such pain only came from the loss of a great love.

He envied this _man,_ this "Spike" she called for while lost in her dreams. It was _he_ who held the key to that special place in her heart. To be able to claim that place as his own, he would have died a thousands deaths.

A watching, waiting game

He watched as she lost herself to the memories yet again. A sigh slipped from his lips, unnoticed by Buffy.

He knows that she will never love him, never whisper promises of tomorrow.

He knows that she will never utter sweet poetry in his ear and make bold declarations of a love that runs deep and true. He knows _those_ words are for the man who causes her so much pain and anguish.

_Those_ emotions belong to the _man_ her heart craves, the_ man_ she dreams of each night that she lay in his arms. He knows that she could never give him what he craves.

It _all _belongs to another.

He waited for her to respond to his presence. To show him that she wanted him there with her. He waited for her to reach for him. Instead her fingers danced around the pinked skin on her hand, tracing the _scars _as she always did.

At first he thought she did it subconsciously. However, he noticed the emotions on her face when she let her fingers caress the disfigured skin. He knew then, she did it to keep a memory alive, the only tangible thing left to remind her of a time passed. He knew that her scars were linked to _him._

He sighed, letting out the breath he was holding. In that breath he thought of so much he could say. Thought of so many ways he could make her happy, made so many arguments to stay. However he knew he would never be enough for her.

In his heart, he said goodbye.

Rising from the bed they shared, he dressed and walked over to her. He gently kissed her forehead, a knowing look passed between them, and he left with not a word spoken.

Too many questions. Only one answer.

Glancing around her apartment she realized that her lover was gone. Moments passing until she remembered the kiss he left on her forehead. Brushing her fingers softly across her forehead she sighed, it was a goodbye kiss. Part of her was saddened by the reality that he had left her.

Questions of 'why' filled her thoughts and emotions, why had he left? Why couldn't she give him what he needed? Why? Her answer echoed around the silence of her home.

"Because you weren't him"

_**And I had the sense to recognize, **_

_**But I don't know how to let you go**_

_**I don't know how to let you go**_

_Fin_


End file.
